


nerites

by jxshua



Category: SEVENTEEN (Band)
Genre: Angst, Fluff, Forced Marriage, Historical, M/M, Romance, Violence
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-08-11
Updated: 2018-06-06
Packaged: 2018-12-14 01:02:52
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 3
Words: 6,457
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11772219
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jxshua/pseuds/jxshua
Summary: mingyu and wonwoo are both princes from rival clans. mingyu kidnaps wonwoo and forces him into a marriage. chaos ensues.





	1. Chapter 1

The young male nimbly whisked through the thick greens, winding around branches and trees. He wielded a large quiver of arrows and a bow on his back as his weapons of offence but had been instructed not to strike a human unless necessary. His slim physique carried him forward at a phenomenal speed; his flaming tribal tattoos glistening in the wind.

A pair of arrows whizzed past his ear.

He instantly landed on the earth, sharp pebbles piercing his soles and crisp dried leaves crunching under his feet. The male swiftly drew out a whistling arrow from his leather quiver and aimed it into the sky, shooting with all his might. A loud shrilling noise burst forward from within the forests and he began frantically scampering towards the east.

The men were close on his feet. He dove through the tree branches, racing like a cheetah. But in a flash, a large man abruptly tackled him to the ground and a scream broke free from his throat at the impact. With no time to waste, he whipped out his blade and struck the man across thigh, easily breaking free and hurling himself down the path to escape.

The crudely built shacks and shelters of his village neared his sight, and he soon recognised the figure stubbornly safeguarding the entrance of their territory.

“Wonwoo! Behind me, now!” the man roared.

His father, leader of the tribe, was a bulky man with fierce hawk eyes and stood tall with a sharpened spear in hand, carved to his height. He was not a man to be screwed with. The boy obeyed in a hurry, finding safety behind his father’s legs. The troop of men soon arrived, some on horses and some on foot, cladded in their clan’s garbs.

“How may we help you gentlemen?” the chief growled, tightening his grip on his spear.

“The boy. He treaded past the line of our territory and made away with some herbs. Hand him over this instant,”

“A child is prone to making mistakes. Have mercy and we shall punish him as deemed fit,”

“Sir, if you do not comply, we will respond with force,”

Wonwoo shrunk back even further in fright. His father waved a hand in the air and a large group of men instantaneously scuttled forward from the shadows with blades in their hands.

“Then we shall return the favour,” he proclaimed, “If you dare touch the children of our tribe,”

Stunned, they were clearly outnumbered and unable to hold their ground. With no alternatives, the intruders slowly backed away into withdrawal at the sight, grumbling and snarling in discontent before disappearing into the forests.

A sigh of relief escaped him.

“Wonwoo!”

His mother bustled forward from within the village; her fountain of golden hair frolicking in the breeze and her long silk garments brushing against the ground. She gathered her son into her arms and inspected him fearfully with her lively cerulean eyes.

“Are you alright? Did they hurt you? Christ, you are bleeding!”

“I’m fine, mother. Sorry,” he mumbled.

“It’s alright. They won’t wage war with us over a handful of herbs,” she smoothed a hand through his hair to reassure him, “Now off you go, ask Jihoon to take a look at your wounds,”

“Right away, mother,”

He shot his father a nervous glance before scurrying away from sight.

 

“Ouch!”

“Alright kid, you’re good,”

Wonwoo bent his elbow with a frown, examining his injury. A large gash sat upon his forearm, smeared with herbs and a traditional cream to prevent infection. He laid back on the bed of cotton with a huff and stretched his arms.

“Hey that spot is for patients, kiddo,”

“I am a patient,” he declared, raising his arm, “Look at me, I’m injured!”

“Oh don’t be a baby,” the healer scoffed, packing up his things, “It was just a small graze,”

Jihoon was a doctor and good friend of the tribe leader’s only son, despite having an age gap of seven years with him. Wonwoo was a careless child with a body full of scars and Jihoon had always been there to help him. He handed the younger a ceramic bowl filled with water and sat by his side to crunch on some sweets.

“Hey Jihoon,”

A hum in response.

“I think I might be in trouble,”

 

The youngster plopped down by the stream, dipping his legs in the cool transient water. A tender vermillion shade settled in the skies, indicating evening. Birds chirped in a distance, crickets chirred in the dampness of the wild and a loud horn blared into the skies. He popped a bunch of berries into his mouth. It was only a matter of time.

Maybe he should make some preparations to bid everyone farewell.

Wonwoo’s eyes sharply swerved across the rustling of the bushes across the small stream. He shoved the rest of the berries in his mouth and cautiously drew his arrow, slowly clambering up to his feet. Intruders. How had they managed to enter their territory? The young male widened his eyes in shock as a group of tribesmen leaped out from within the shadows.

A loud shriek broke free from his throat as a pair of arms secured onto him from behind; a heavy hand clasping over his mouth. He instantly took a whiff of the strange scent, struggling desperately to escape. But five men were down on him in a flash, bonding his limbs together, and soon enough, darkness fell over his eyes.

 

When I was about five or six years old, I vaguely recalled of a tale which my mother would repeatedly bestow upon me. I was born in a small village, constructed out of muds, sticks and stones on an empty plot of wasteland. It was a small, happy community. We called ourselves the Devotus, cultivated wheat and weaved silk garments to be sold to travelling merchants.

We lived in peace, but only for several decades, before an unexpected civil war broke out. There was a belief amongst certain villagers that we were leading an unsustainable lifestyle, guided by morality and justice. They believed that people should be led by absolute leadership, without a sense of morals and simply a code of laws to prevent chaos.

This ideology was founded by my grandfather, an ambitious man. He sought war with the previous leader of the tribe, in order to gain control. Hence, the Jeon rebellion, known as one of the great wars even to this day. It lasted for forty days and nights, before my grandfather eventually fell back with his men and disappeared.

Many of our people died and we mourned for seventy days. However, in less than a year, my grandfather had established a new tribe, known as the Lagu. They lived right across the river, three miles away from the forests barricading our village and often did they wage trouble with us.

Over the years, they had done terrible things to our people – kept our children and women captive, killed our men and sent their bodies floating down the rivers back to us, extorted valuables and materials from our people and even destroyed our crops. My father, who was appointed the new tribe leader, was devastated.

He had tried seeking peace with the Lagu people many times but to no avail. My mother told me that it was in their blood, that they were cruel people and never for once should I ever let my guard down around their territory. Otherwise they would capture me, and I would be torn apart from my flesh and burned to death on a stake.

 

The environment tasted foreign. Of scented wood, crackling fire and blooming lavenders. He jolted awake with a gasp, scraping his wrists against the ropes binding his hands together. The youngster glanced around, heart thrumming in his ears. His weapons were in a corner, set aside neatly away from his reaches.

He recognised the structure of the tent sheltering him from the night breeze. Wool material and pillars carved from walnut trees, with skulls hanging from the ceiling like ornaments. An ocean of candles ran along the edges of the tent. The sight had his blood running cold. He was within the territory of the Lagu people.

They had captured him.

“Looks like you’re awake,”

He flinched.

A slender young male attired in traditional woollen tribe articles stepped into the tent with a necklace of tiny skulls strung around his neck. He was small, but the tattoo crested on his chest suggested otherwise. He was a warrior, possibly of high status. The boy sat before him and crossed his legs, appraising their prisoner momentarily.

“You are really pretty,” he hemmed, “No wonder the guys were so determined to bring you back. How are you feeling?”

“What do you want from me?” he growled.

“Let’s be friends. I’m Minghao,”

Wonwoo narrowed his eyes. “I _said_ , what do you want from me? I do not belong here. Take me back to my people,”

Minghao propped himself up on his elbow with a sigh. “My apologies. Our prince has ordered your capture. We cannot return you until we have received further orders from him,”

“Your _prince_?”

He glanced over his shoulder with a smile. “Speak of the devil,”

Wonwoo lifted his head. A towering youthful man with ombre hair presented himself at the threshold, accompanied by his guardians. He was garbed in grand garments, meticulously sewn and adorned with the finest diamonds, with leather pouches draped around his waist. He was a man of great beauty.

Shimmering stars pooled in his wolfish obsidian orbs, playful yet brimming with authority. Every facial feature was defined and accentuated, radiant under the light of the moon. His skin glowed with a rich sunkissed tone and tattoos were embedded onto every inch of his broad, well-built figure.

He was a stark contrast with the prince of the Devotus tribe, who was simply a scrawny little boy who loved hunting. But Wonwoo feared nothing and dared himself to stare straight into the other’s eye. Minghao popped a straw of grass into his mouth and waved.

“Yo, Mingyu. The kids brought you a little gift,”

“So I have heard,” he bent down on one knee and raised the captive’s chin with a finger, eyes tracing over his beauteous countenance, “Seungcheol was right. Who did you inherit your blue eyes from?”

“My mother. She’s from the west,” Wonwoo muttered in disinterest.

The prince lowered his gaze, a smile tugging up the corners of his peachy lips. “You are bearing the crest of the two headed dragon. You must be the prince of your tribe, Jeon Wonwoo,”

“The one and only,” he huffed, “And you must be Kim Mingyu, soon to be leader of the Lagu people,”

“Glad to be acquainted with you,”

“Wouldn’t even think about it. Return me to my tribe at once,”

Mingyu veiled his annoyance with a thin smile. He rose up to his feet and extracted an arrow from the stolen quiver. The weapons had been intricately carved by hand, requiring time and great expertise. The craftwork could only belong to the people of the Devotus tribe. The prince was quite a skilled one. Wonwoo gritted his teeth.

“Hands off, _your highness_ ,”

Mingyu twirled the arrow in his hand with a chuckle. “Ever heard of the bridal exchange tradition?”

“I bet it’s something ridiculous that the Lagu clan practices,”

Mingyu decided to ignore that. “If a man decides to take another man or woman as his lifelong partner, he shall precede his advances by retrieving them without their knowledge and wedding them after spending two nights together,”

Wonwoo paled.

The prince traced the tip of the arrow along the slopes of Wonwoo’s face with a condescending smirk, being extra cautious not to draw blood. “You understand what that implies, right?”

Fury flashed over his eyes. “You people are _disgusting_ ,” he hissed.

“Better watch your mouth, kid,” he exited the tent with his bodyguards close on his tail, “You are going to be my bride soon,”

Wonwoo exhaled in exhaustion, rolling his head back with a groan. It’s alright; he just had to map an escape route as soon as possible. He prayed that his villagers would be able to lend him a hand in fleeing from this utterly mortifying place. Minghao shifted to seat himself in front of him once more, grinning earnestly.

“So, do you still wanna be my friend?”

“Please go away,”


	2. chapter two

The people of the Lagu clan had always been rather hostile towards outsiders, with a particular distaste for the Devotus tribesmen. Eyes filled with aversion and detest, they stared down upon him like an animal and exchanged whispers of outrage. Had the prince gone mad? Why would he be interested in a scrawny feral animal originating from their enemies’ clan?

Wonwoo kept his head lowered to avoid gazes, hands and ankles shackled together with iron. A dozen warriors marched on each side of the path, leading him to the chief’s doorstep. The prince was going to seek approval. Minghao ambled along next to him with not an ounce of care for the world while chatting up the prisoner like they had been friends for years.

“And that’s our church! The Lagu people worship Demeter, goddess of the grain and harvest. We celebrate a festival dedicated to her birthday on the ninth moon of every month,”

“Why are you telling me all this?” he muttered.

“Well, because you are going to be a part of our clan soon!”

“I never agreed to this,” Wonwoo moaned, “I was forcefully taken away from my people and now I have to endure all of your nonsense. Leave me alone,”

For a moment, he felt bad for lashing out at Minghao because the kid was now wearing the most pitiful puppy look ever; but it was true. He had to devise an escape plan soon. It might strike friction between the tribes once again but he wasn’t going to marry that self centred, egotistical doofus of a prince. Not in a million years.

“Watch your step,” Mingyu uttered.

A massive structure stood out in the middle of the village amongst the puny tents and tepees, underpinned by tall sturdy cuts of wood. Two wooden sculptures of savage tigers sat at either side of the threshold, with a stretch of stairs leading up to the entrance. With a wave of a hand, the guards instantly shifted into defence position and surrounded the house.

Mingyu ascended the stairs with his personal bodyguard and Minghao, and the shackled prisoner right behind him. The chief of the tribe perched upon a resplendent throne, surrounded by lovely maidens bearing fans, fresh flowers and baskets of fruits.

A few dancers garbed in flowing robes sat before the chief, crooning in their mellifluous voices with mellow music emanating from their lyres and flutes. Dozens of warriors stood in rigid upright positions along the narrow red carpet connecting the steps of the throne to the doorstep. It was a sight indeed.

Upon noticing that visitors had arrived, the chief dismissed his company and ordered the young men to step forward. They lowered their heads respectfully and Wonwoo simply scrutinised the elderly man with furrowed eyebrows. The chief was an indolent, short tempered man with a full beard and a fondness for wine and women. Many feared him.

Not Wonwoo.

“Father,” Mingyu greeted.

“I heard that you have brought quite a stir to the village this morning, Mingyu. What’s the news?”

An innocent, nerving smile presented itself on his lips.

“I have chosen my bride,”

This instantly caught his attention and Mr Kim straightened up in his seat at once. “Interesting. Introductions, if you please,”

Minghao gave the chains a gentle tug and the prisoner stumbled forward with a grunt of displeasure, eyes shifting around warily. He was a frail young man, slender to the bone but ebullient with a strange fiery passion burning in his gaze. The slates of blue in his cerulean eyes were dashing, beautiful at the least.

“May I present to you, Jeon Wonwoo. Prince of his tribe and a half blood. I have selected him to be my partner for life,”

Pregnant silence hung in the air. The chief examined him with a frown growing on his features. Steadily, he sat back with a clay drinking vessel in one hand and downed some wine with his eyes fixated upon their captive.

“Mingyu, are you messing around with me right now?”

He furrowed his brows. “I don’t understand, father,”

“This man bears the crest of the Devotus tribe. Did you think that I’d overlook that?”

The prince swallowed visibly. He craned his neck to glance over his shoulder, regarding Wonwoo with a steady intent look. Damn, his father was observant.

“We do not associate ourselves with their people!” the elderly man boomed, “You should know that better than anyone else,”

Clenching his fists, he boldly advanced on the carpet to face the chief with tense shoulders and a gaze of determination. “Father, I have received ample guidance from Demeter. We will be blessed,”

“No, absolutely not. I strongly forbid of this marriage,”

The prince spun around on his heels and raised his hand to give it a dismissing flick.

“Junhui, take him away to my quarters,” he ordered, “Minghao, stay put,”

His bodyguard was a gallant young man, with razor sharp swords latching onto his back and rows of finely carven darts lining his waist. He had lengthy dark hair slicked away from his stoic face, hawkish obsidian eyes and lanky limbs. Junhui has been attached with the prince since birth; his parents originally being of royal descent from the Devotus tribe.

When he was born, a shaman declared that he was worthy of being the royal prince’s lifelong guardian. A crest was embedded on the small of his back and three years later, when Mingyu came into this world, Junhui swore to protect him with his life.

With the chains in one hand, he dipped his head in a bow and led the prisoner away. Wonwoo peered over his shoulder and flounced out with a huff and loathing eyes. Silence regained as the clinking of chains vanished into the distance. Minghao stepped back while mindlessly suckling on a hardy candy, placing his thumb over the hilt of his sword.

“Father, the prophecy spoke of the reincarnation of Nerites, a beautiful young boy of royal descent with blue eyes, originating from a rival clan. I’ve found him! We’ve been fated to marry. And he’ll bring prosperity to the Lagu clan,”

“It doesn’t matter; I refuse to have the blood of their people running in our clan,”

He narrowed his eyes. “You fail to remember that we all have their blood flowing in our veins. We are the Devotus people, and we have renamed ourselves due to conflicting practices and beliefs,”

“Show some respect, young man,” the chief growled.

The prince let out an exasperated sigh. “The wedding will take place in two moons and it’s happening whether you like it or not, father. You are cordially invited,”

He stormed out with Minghao obediently tracing his footsteps. The elderly chief crossed his arms with a grunt of displeasure, watching as his shadow melted away from his sight. There was going to be a problem.

 

“Please make yourself comfortable,” Junhui muttered, removing the fetters of iron from the captive’s limbs.

He promptly exited the tent, stationing himself outside to await the Lagu prince. Wonwoo rubbed his wrists and glanced around curiously, seating himself on the thin woolly mattress. The prince lived at the edge of the village alone with his three attendees and bodyguard, preferring his solitude. It was a peaceful, lonely area.

Weapons of offence had been strung up on the walls along with exquisite royal garments, accessories and souvenirs from animal hunts. A good corner of the room was packed with slates of stones and flickering, flaming candles gave the tent a soothing ambiance.

Mingyu’s status headpiece, immaculately carved out of thyine wood with freshly plucked hawk feathers and flowers entwining with the serpentine arches of the wood, perched proudly upon the walls. The scent was saccharine, engulfing the air in pleasant sweetness. He approached the study, holding up a candle to his line of sight.

Brushing the dust away from the stone, he peered at the slates to examine the series of cursive writings meeting his eyes.

“Herbology?” he studied them with furrowed eyebrows.

“Yeah. It’s one of my fields of study,” Mingyu entered the tent, unfastening his leather pouches and letting them drape across the floor. The captured prince watched as he proceeded to remove the numerous accessories and swords from his broad frame.

“Didn’t peg you as the studious type,”

“Are you interested in herbology?”

“Please. The people of the Devotus tribe are the true masters of herbology,”

A smile painted itself onto Mingyu’s face.

Wonwoo frowned. “What?”

“This is the most civil conversation we’ve had since you arrived,”

“Shut up,” he snarled, “It doesn’t change the fact that I hate your fucking guts,”

“Well, make yourself at home. You’ll be rooming with me now,” He flapped open the entrance of the tent and stepped out to join his guard.

“I’d rather sleep with a wild cat,” Wonwoo yelled angrily in response.

 

The dark haired prince slung his quiver over his shoulder, fidgeting in place with a grumble of dissatisfaction. A string of heavy chains clung to his ankle, clinking loudly much to his irritation. If he tried to escape, the sound would instantly alert the others and it would slow down his movements considerably.

Mingyu didn’t want his bride to disappear on their wedding day.

Four young men stood in perfect formation before them, fully equipped with weapons of offense. Threads of sacred tribal tattoos weaved across their bodies, stretching over a wide expanse of scarred flesh. Several dark stallions stood proud and tall behind the youngsters; their tails swishing placidly in the air.

“Boys, this is Wonwoo,” Mingyu adjusted the straps winded around his waist and clapped his hands together, “Wonwoo, my warriors. Seungcheol, Hansol and you have met Junhui and Minghao,”

They were on their knees in a flash, dipping their heads in a bow before rising to their feet.

“We must apologise if we roughed you up on your journey here,” Seungcheol muttered regretfully, “We were on a tight schedule,”

With a palm of stone, the dark haired male sharpened the fine tip of the arrowhead with quick fine strokes and snatched hold of his bow. He simply smiled nonchalantly in return.

“Oh, don’t worry. I understand that you were all just acting under orders. The real monster here is him,” Wonwoo gestured towards the prince with his arrow.

Mingyu rolled his eyes, dismissing the statement with a plain huff.

Seungcheol cleared his throat and climbed aboard on one of the grand stallions. “Well, we must hurry and get home before dawn. The feast will require the preparation of twelve pheasants, three wolves, six wild rabbits and a massive catch of carp and bass,”

“I’m sure you are aware that our tribespeople are exceedingly talented in hunting. Think you can handle it?” Mingyu grinned haughtily.

Wonwoo kept his mesmerising blue eyes fixated on the obnoxious prince and lifted his arm into the air, swiftly freeing an arrow from his grasp. The bushes began scuffling in rapid panicky motions, spitting out a limping hare from behind the greens. After a bloody and futile struggle, the animal collapsed limply onto the grass, quite harmless and dead.

Stunned silence collectively brushed through the men.

“I’ve been the best hunter in my tribe since I was twelve,” he proclaimed, “I could put an arrow right in between your eyes if I wanted to,”

 

The sound of light hooves and fleeting gallops whisked through the vast stretch of land and grass. Each of the young men was seated on a majestic horse, impatiently chasing after nimble little foxes. Wonwoo whipped out another arrow and pulled back the bow string, releasing it with a loud snap.

A grey fox with white ears abruptly knocked over from the impact. The brunet swooped down to retrieve his catch, whacking the reins against his ride. Impetuously, the horse picked up its pace and charged into the forests with nothing to lose. He listened to the rustling of leaves and crunching of twigs susurrating in his ears, feeling his heart sinking in his chest.

Home. Peering over his shoulder, he made sure that the trees had momentarily blinded him from sight before hastily pulling out a pair of arrows. Wonwoo raised his aim towards the skies, watching as they whizzed into the blues and perforated the clouds.

The familiar whistling noise echoed through the forests.

“Your highness!”

He lowered his bow. Seungcheol was a well built, sturdy young man with dishevelled carmine hair, gorgeous doe eyes and messy streaks of paint running along his cheekbones. He bore a beautiful figure with an assortment of weapons latching onto his limbs. The warrior came sprinting in on his horse, unlatching a dagger from his thigh.

“Your highness,” he uttered breathlessly, “Are you alright? I heard a strange sound,”

Wonwoo smiled.

“I’m alright. Thank you for the concern,”

“Shall we return? The prince is worrying about your safety,”

“I suppose,”

They paced out together from the forest to rejoin the hunting party, laying out dozens of dead critters on the grass. A loud explosion sounded in a distance, which instantly grabbed their attention. Sparks of red dotted the horizons. Minghao furrowed his brows and began taking excessively large swigs from the bittersweet wine in his pouch.

“Mingyu,”

“Speak,”

“We have to depart. It’s the sound of the war canon,”


	3. chapter three

He felt just like a prized ox, a feather headpiece crowning his head and his limbs shackled with clinking chains. The young male treaded across the cold dirty ground, with the Lagu tribe’s crest painted on his left breast, and warriors storming down the village. All the villagers had been evacuated on the emergency, fearful of war breaking out.

Mingyu twisted the spear in one hand, puncturing the earth with the end of the weapon. His hand was cautiously rested on the sword attached to his hip and all movements came to a halt behind him. The entrance was barricaded by their warriors, holding up shields in a line of defence. The prince regarded the enemies with a smug grin.

Hundreds of Devotus tribesmen confronted the village. They were led by the chief, who was cladded in red feathers and armour and armed to the teeth, with his bodyguards stationed next to him. He was evidently brimming with pure ire and wrath, eyes darting back and forth in search for the missing prince.

“You have taken our child,” he boomed, “Return him to us and we shall not carry forth our arms.”

Wonwoo’s eyes widened a smidge at the sound of his father’s voice, dashing forward to catch a glimpse of the chief. He was exhilarated. His whistling arrows were specially handcrafted in times of emergencies, and he was glad that his tribe had intercepted them earlier. They had moved exceptionally quickly to retrieve the captured prince from their enemy tribe.

“Father,” he shouted, “Be careful!”

Mingyu furrowed his brows and snatched hold of the chains attached to his bride to be. With a hard yank, the brunet stumbled back over his feet with a yelp and crumbled into a heap on the dirt. He gritted his teeth, shooting the beauteous young prince a hard glare as Minghao scurried forward to help him up to his feet.

“How dare you,” his father roared, “How _dare_ you land your filthy hands on our prince!”

“He’s my property now,” Mingyu shrugged nonchalantly, “Try and stop me.”

The elderly chief threw a few signals into the air and all the warriors instantly shifted into their positions, weapons outstretched and ready to fire. Despite his tiny physique, Minghao easily scooped the thrashing prince into his arms and guided him away from the scene, drawing out his swords with a heavy sigh.

“Don’t try to run away, okay?” he pleaded, “Mingyu is already a handful himself.”

He scampered away to join the fight. The warriors broke formation and threw their arms into the air, charging forward to attack each other. Sharp clashes of weapons resonated through the village, war cries melted into the skies and the sound of bodies thudding hit his ears. The young prince regarded the splatter of blood in utter horror.

A familiar figure slashed through the circle of chaos and turmoil, deftly brandishing his swords to cut his way towards the prince. Wonwoo pushed himself up to his feet, throwing himself forward with a scream. Why is _Jihoon_ here? He had been incapacitated after the previous war, he shouldn’t be fighting.

Wonwoo shouted a warning, but it was too late; one of the soldiers managed to hack the male from behind and Jihoon tumbled over, groans of pain spilling from his lips. The enemy raised his sword again to finish him off but the prince was sprinting, swiftly relieving a dead body of their blade and throwing himself over the lifeless body.

“No!” he yelled, tightening his grip on the sword, “Don’t touch him!”

Mingyu spun around, eyes narrowing at the sight. “Wonwoo, what are you doing?” he snapped in irritation.

The prince tucked the sharp end of the blade against his neck, clenching his teeth. His people on the grounds froze in terror. He could hear his father yelling, _don’t be reckless, dumbass_. But he simply kept his eyes fixated on the Lagu prince, with an arm encased around the young injured physician.

“Make another move on my people and I swear I’ll take my own life,” he threatened.

The tall beauteous man exhaled heavily in exasperation, unbothered by the remark. He twirled his spear around in one hand and turned his back on the scene. “Junhui, Minghao. Get him.”

“No, back off!” he shouted.

Before he could blink, the two nimble youths had materialised next to him and pinned all his limbs down onto the earth, confiscating the blade from his grasp. Wonwoo struggled pointlessly underneath their brutal strength, bursting with frustration as he watched the swords clash once more.

_Don’t be selfish, don’t be selfish–_

“Kim Mingyu!” he screamed, “Stop this. I’ll marry you, please!”

Everyone paused to regard him in surprise. His father stared at him in bewilderment, ready to object, but Wonwoo merely clenched his jaw and stood his ground.

“I’m the prince, I have a say in this,” he proclaimed with tears welling in his eyes, writhing under their grasps, “I’m willing to marry into the Lagu clan. _Please_ just call it a truce.”

A triumphant smile curled the edges of Mingyu’s lips. He motioned for his warriors to withdraw, and they collectively adjourned with bloodied weapons. Minghao and Junhui reluctantly released their hold on the prince and he scrambled to encircle his arms around his physician’s near lifeless body.

Soldiers from his tribe instantaneously approached him with wounds tearing through their limbs to pry him away from Wonwoo’s arms, who desperately held on. Jihoon stirred awake, barely conscious, and managed a faint smile at the prince. ‘I’m okay’, he mouthed in a raspy broken voice, before they hauled his limp body away from sight.

The raven haired male took a quick glimpse around, heart sinking in his chest when he set his eyes upon the blood and bodies piled across the grounds. All he could do was weakly protest when Jihoon was taken away from him, and he could see the despair in his father’s eyes as they retreated from the village.

Minghao carefully helped him back up to his feet, tucking an arm around his shoulders before they began a slow trudge back home. It was painful. Mingyu could only watch their retreating backs silently amongst the ruckus, eyes falling upon the bruises blooming beneath the fetters on Wonwoo’s ankles.

 

“How are you feeling, your highness?” Seungcheol stepped past the threshold with some steaming soup, offering it to the prince crouched over a tiny crackling fire.

Wonwoo accepted it with a sad twinkle in his eyes, cradling the bowl between his palms. “Not too bad.”

A gust of zephyr whisked in past the flaps of the tent, causing the flames to flutter in distress. He shivered, curling up in place and taking a small sip from the brew. Seungcheol hastily ripped the fur coat off the wall and draped it around the prince’s frail, delicate frame, enveloping him in warmth.

Wonwoo craned his neck to gaze up at him with a warm, grateful smile.

“Thank you,” he whispered.

Seungcheol’s eyes widened a smidge. A strange sensation roused up in his chest, but he does not entertain it. _He just can’t._ The thoughts are pushed away into a dark corner of his mind and he retired with a bow to stand guard outside. Wonwoo does not lift his head to acknowledge the figure stepping foot into the camp.

Anyone could recognise that particular ominous shadow hovering above them.

Mingyu could see him wearing a forlorn expression, but it extended beyond anger and sadness. There was an inconsolable void in his eyes, eating away at his being. Guilt began webbing across Mingyu’s chest. He settled down next to the captive, probing the fire with a stray twig lying on the ground.

“Did I hurt someone you love today?” he inquired in a hesitant but steady tone.

Silence ensued. The flicker of the flames reflected and illuminated in the brunet’s youthful umber orbs. “Jihoon’s my ex fiancé.”

Mingyu’s expression hardened.

“I’ve known him all my life. We were supposed to marry when I turned 16 but he was incapacitated in the last war and my dad deemed him unworthy so the engagement was called off. We are still close though, his mother is very kind to me,” he emptied the contents of the bowl, “I loved him.”

Exhaustion weighed onto his lids. It has been a long day. He shifted to sprawl on a bed of grass with cotton pillowing his head, heaving the fur over his shoulders to keep himself warm. Usually, Mingyu would occupy the space next to him, but not tonight. The marriage ceremony would take place tomorrow.

Part of the ritual was to keep the bride and groom isolated from each other until the hour before they were to be brought together by the wedding officiant. He began to drift off into a deep slumber, but amidst the drowsiness, he does not miss the way Mingyu gingerly stroked his hair to lull him before taking his leave.

“ _I’m sorry_.”

 

Men and women were bustling around busily. Tiny children scampered about, screaming and chasing one another on the streets. It was a rather brisk village, and their jewellery business flourished amongst passing merchants and nearby towns.

Wonwoo was chaperoned by a royal attendant, who was a sixteen year old brunet with lively feline eyes. Unlike the many people of his clan, Joshua was born to be a good natured youngster of few words. He had been serving Mingyu all his life with great devotion and unwavering faithfulness.

“I must apologise about this,” he muttered sheepishly, circling the chains around Wonwoo’s wrist and attaching it to the latch in his hand, “I’m under strict orders to keep you under my watch.”

“That’s fine,” Wonwoo sighed.

They strode down the path cracking in between the stalls and tepees of the village, receiving threatening glares from the tribespeople.

He must have seduced the prince, a lady hissed to her friend. What an utterly hideous man, they remarked out of spite, Mingyu could do much better than that. I can’t believe he rejected the beautiful princess from the southern tribe for this garbage, a male scoffed over a pouch of wine, the prince must be insane.

Joshua instantly threw himself in front of Wonwoo to shield him as a member of the crowd hurled a whole fruit right at them, splattering all over his face. A loud gasp of horror spilled past the prince’s throat.

“Move, Joshua!” a man yelled angrily.

“I won’t. You shall not disrespect the bride of his highness. The prince forbids it,” he calmly reprimanded.

Hastily, he hauled a thin coat over the prince’s head and escorted him to their destination.

“I’m so sorry about that,” Wonwoo brushed off the red from the attendant’s cheek with his thumb, knitting his brows at the sight, “I didn’t know that they would be so hostile.”

“You are too kind. Please do not worry about me. It’s my job to escort you.”

A steaming secret hot spring surrounded by bamboo trees and secure fencing outside of the hamlet greeted their eyes. Two attendants bearing armfuls of materials awaited their arrival. With a respectful greeting and bow, they disrobed the prince and led him into the hot spring for a dip.

After waddling in the spring, he was bathed in myrtle leaves and the petals of golden chrysanthemums and primroses, and robed in viridescent garments. A royal headpiece was set upon his head with meticulously shaped gemstones lining his wrists, and he flounced out only to find the groom awaiting him outside.

Mingyu’s eyes grazed up and down over his bride’s alluring frame.

“Finally, you look like a true prince of the Lagu people,”

“Fuck you,” Wonwoo spat.

“With pleasure,” Mingyu chuckled with a playful hint in his voice, smoothing out the creases in his robes. “Let’s move.”

 

He could feel his palms sweating as Joshua escorted him onto the stage, elevated several feet from the ground. Countless pairs of eyes were fixated upon him. His head began to ache. Something didn’t feel quite right. The officiant proclaimed their fate and love for one another, and nausea surged up his throat because everyone knew the truth.

He didn’t love Mingyu.

A pair of mellow couplets landed against his tenderly, and a metal band circled his ring finger to certify his status as the newly instated prince of the tribe. Petals scattered across their feet. Cheers and applause broke out from the crowd below. Mingyu seemed to be brimming with pride, intertwining their fingers and sweeping his gaze over the people with a thrilled smile.

It happened in a blink of an eye.

A pair of young men innocently cladded in the attendants’ robes approached Wonwoo and in a flash, snatched him away from the prince and darted off from the stage. The captive thrashed about in panic, screams muffled and movements restricted by their firm grasps. It was the first time in ages Mingyu had tasted fear, eyes blown wide open at the scene.

“ _Wonwoo_!”

**Author's Note:**

> loosely inspired by the manhwa song of the long march. nerites was a minor sea deity, son of nereus and doris. he was a young boy of stunning beauty and many fell in love with him, including aphrodite, poseidon and helios.


End file.
